Birth of the Shadow Man: The Young Facilier
by Kianda Daemon
Summary: I don't normally like Disney, but PatF fascinated me-- Facilier in particular. This will probably be two or three chapters long; it is how I think Facilier became the Shadow Man. Please comment with constructive criticism. K plus just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

New Orleans was always hot in autumn-- in fact, the only time it wasn't hot was winter, and even then it was fairly warm. Nevertheless, it was a town full of life, music, and colors. It had strange people, normal people, and more than it's fair share of strange stories. In fact, it had many strange stories about Voodoo-- did I forget to mention that this story is almost completely centered around that? Yes, I suppose I did. Well, this story took place not too long ago, back in the swinging twenties; this story took place in New Orleans, the birthplace of jazz, and the birthplace of one of the most dangerous-- and pathetic-- men you'd probably ever meet. What was his name, you might ask? Well, he was best known as the Shadow Man. His real name was Francis Steven Facilier, and this is his story...

* * *

"Come one, come all, my friends! Come and try your luck in a game of skill and awareness! How about you, sir? You look to be a good looking, smart fellow!"

This was how Francis did it. He'd set up a small table at one of the busiest corners of New Orleans-- it changed from day to day, but ever since he started doing this he began to pick up the patterns of traffic-- and draw in people with his deep, smooth voice. He was very charismatic and witty, which is how he managed to attract attention. That, and he wasn't half bad looking either. He was very well dressed: He wore a black jacket, a purple vest over a white dress shirt, black slacks and black shoes, and a black top hat with a purple velvet band wrapped around it.

Youth, charisma, good looks, and a sharp dresser-- how could he not attract a crowd?

"Come come, my friend. Pick a card, any card. It doesn't matter which!"

He spread out a deck of playing cards before him, and the rather plump man picked one up. Francis flashed him a charming, but crooked, smile, and in one swift motion put all the cards back into a single pile. This was another way he attracted more onlookers- his swift dexterity easily drew attention, especially from the young ladies, but he cared little for that. There were really only two things he cared for.

"Excellent, now show me the card, good sir!"

The man flipped the card around-- King of Hearts, just as Francis had planned.

"Ah, it would seem we have royalty among us!" Francis exclaimed, giving a bow to the plump man.

The others couldn't help but laugh, and so did the man holding the card-- and his cheeks were clearly turning a rosy red. Facilier shuffled the deck, then cut it, and shuffled it again, and fanned the cards out in his hand once more.

"Now, put the card back in the deck, Your Highness," He mused.

The man laughed and nodded-- Francis had an uncanny talent for rendering people speechless. After the card was returned to its rightful place, Facilier shuffled the deck three times, cut the deck, and shuffled it once more. He knew exactly where the King would be-- right where the man had placed it. He has done this trick many times before, but never in succession. He had a system, after all. If you do the same trick too often, people get suspicious and won't play anymore. He knew how to play with a person's memory.

He spread the cards out on the table, and asked the man to find his card. The man picked a card from the very same place where he had put it, and gasped in surprise as he held up the King of Hearts. He smiled as the crowd Francis had drawn applauded this small feat, and Francis even joined in the applause himself. He held up his hands, as if to ask for silence.

The first thing he cared for was power over people. Drawing crowds; receiving their undying attention; toying with them. He loved being able to control people; it gave him a adrenaline rush. You could say it gave him a natural high, as a matter of fact. No one knows where this addiction began-- some say it began when he turned thirteen, when he started going to secondary school and became popular among his peers. But this is just a theory. In any event, besides power, there was one other thing he loved more than anything...

"Bravo, my friend, bravo," Facilier praised, clapping his hands slowly three times. "You surely have a a fine eye for detail, good sir."

"Well, thank you, my young friend," The plump man said, his cheeks turning rosy again. "But I must be off. I have some very important business matters to attend to."

"But sir!" Francis pleaded, running around the table and putting his arm around the man's shoulder. "Y'all can't be leaving yet! There is one last game that I have for you. Surely you could stick around just a little while longer?"

"Well," The plump man said thoughtfully, chewing on his bottom lip. "All right, I'll stay," His response was met with applause from the crowd, and a victorious smile from Francis. "But just one more game!"

"That's all I ask," Francis said with a bow as he returned to the table. It was time for a classic trick, and one of his favorites. He drew three cards from the deck-- one was a Joker, the other a Ace of Spades, and the last a King of Diamonds.

"Three cards," Facilier said, holding each one up for the man to see. He put them on the table face down, and then showed him the joker. "Find the joker three times, and you win. But, if you only find him twice, you lose. So, shall we play?"

The plump man considered it for a moment, then he smiled and nodded his head. Facilier responded with a rather sly smile of his own.

He began moving the cards around at an average speed. He moved them around in a detectable pattern, easy enough for anyone to recognize. When he stopped, he held his arms out at his sides to show he had nothing to hide.

"So, where's the Joker?"

The man picked up the center card, and showed it to Francis. It was indeed the Joker.

"Very good!" Francis remarked, taking the card back and placing it back on the table. "Now, since you're in a hurry, as I can see from the way you're checking your pocket watch-- which is very nice, by the way-- I'll speed it up a little bit. Just try to keep your eyes on the Joker," He said with a wink.

He started moving the cards around again, quickly, but still in a detectable pattern. Again, the plump man found the Joker, and he was met with applause by everyone-- even Francis gave him a mock congratulations. The card was put back in its place, but before Facilier started up again, he put up one finger, signaling for them to wait.

"Now, since y'all are doing so well, what do you say we make this a little more interesting?" Facilier asked. Before the man could respond, he cut him off. "I'd say that watch you have there is worth twenty, maybe thirty dollars? I can see you are quite the wealthy man, as am I. So, what do you say we share our wealth with each other? If you win, I will give you the exact amount of what you paid for that watch. But, if you lose, I get the watch. Does it sound like a deal?" He asked politely, holding out his hand for the man to shake. The plump man hesitated for a moment, but he took Francis' hand and shook it.

"Excellent!" Facilier exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "Now, please place your watch on the table," The man did as he was asked. "Good! Now, I'll place thirty dollars on the table, and we shall get on our way, yes?"

He placed the money on the table, then go to working his magic. He had gone easy on the man up until now. This time he moved the cards quickly, this time without a detectable pattern. Despite all this, there was still a chance that the plump man might find the card. However, Francis had an ace up his sleeve-- an Ace of Spades, to be more exact. At the very last second, with a slip of his hand, an Ace of Spades fell out of his sleeve and underneath the Joker-- Francis was so practiced at doing this that it would take a miracle-- or another master of deception-- for anyone to notice. When he was finished, he held his arms out open wide, and waited for the man to pick the card. He pointed at the Joker, and it appeared as if he were struggling to keep from smiling.

"Are you sure that's the Joker?" Facilier asked, putting on his best nervous face. The plump man nodded, this time smiling confidently. Francis shrugged, and turned the card over. "Well, it looks like-- Oh, wait! Looks like you picked the Ace of Spades, my friend."

The man's face became sunken and defeated, and his shoulders slumped as his mouth fell open. Facilier couldn't help but chuckle as he reached over the table and put a hand under his chin, and forced his mouth closed.

"Careful, you'll attract flies," He said with a smirk as he put away both his money and his new pocket watch. "Have a nice day now!" The man grumbled and walked away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Better luck next time! Now, who wants to-"

"Francis Steven Facilier!" A shrill voice cried from the crowd.

_Oh swamp rats..._ Francis thought angrily. _Not mother..._

A fair skinned, dark haired woman stepped out of the crowd and folded her arms across her chest, glaring at the eighteen year old Facilier.

"I told you **not **to be going around cheatin' people out of their money!" She snapped. "What do y'all have to say for yourself?" She demanded.

Francis growled under his breath and blushed as the crowd started to giggle and disperse. He could almost hear them mocking him right now...laughing at him. Scorning him for still living under his mother's thumb. He could not wait to move out, then he could have these people in the palm of his hand-- no, not just the people, but their money too.

Facilier shrugged, trying his best to smile shyly at his mother.

"I'm sorry, mother. But I was bored, and saw a good opportunity to have some fun. Surely you understand?"

"Oh, I understand just fine, Francis!" She snapped, snatching up the deck of cards and snappishly putting them in her purse. "And let me tell you somethin', _son_, I may not have brought you into this world, but I can definitely take you out of it! Now, I suggest you go give that watch back to that nice man right now and apologize!"

"B-But mother," He said, taking a step back and holding his hands up sheepishly, as if he were pleading with her. "I do not know where he went. And besides, a deal's a deal after all."

"You know what direction he went?" She demanded.

"Yes, but--"

"Then go in that direction and find him!" She screamed. "And come straight home afterwards! Your father will want to have a word with you!"

He groaned and walked off in the direction his victim went off in, his shoulders hunched and hands in his pockets. As he walked off, he couldn't help but mutter under his breath:

"Foster father, you mean..."


	2. Chapter 2

(OOC: Wow...this was probably the crappiest chapter I have ever written. I suppose it's my fault, though. I kinda rushed it...crap. Oh well, nothing much to do anyways. This will be the first and last Disney story I'll ever write anyhow.)

Now, my friends, before I continue the tale, let us go over what we have learned about our friend Facilier, shall we? If you have not caught it yet, he was adopted-- at a very young age, I might add. You see, his parents died when he was very young; he really has no memories of them, but he knows for a fact, just by comparing his skin color to that of his foster parents, that he was adopted, without a doubt. It is all right to feel sorry for this man-- the future in store for him warrants such feelings of pity. However, let us stick to the facts, eh?

So, we know he is adopted, and that he is living with a wealthy family, judging by the way he dresses. So, this begs the question, if he is wealthy, why does he cheat people out of their money? It is just in his personality, you see. It is the way he works. Some people say he never had a choice, others say it stems from insecurity-- there are millions of theories as to why he acts the way he does. Perhaps we'll never know the answer. But whatever the reason, let us not delay the telling of this tale any further...

* * *

Francis sat uncomfortably in a rather large plush chair in his father's private study. He and his father dressed in a similar manner, except the middle aged man wore brighter colors. Facilier's adopted father's brown hair was thinning, and age seemed to already be taking a toll on him. He already had some wrinkles forming, and his steps had slowed over the years. What was worse was that he had some health problems. His heart didn't seem to function properly, and he almost had a heart attack on two occasions; his eyesight was also getting worse, and his immune system seemed to be weakening. He actually had to take an extended leave of absence from his job at the hospital due to his health problems. There were some in New Orleans who said he didn't have much longer to live-- they had no idea how right they were.

Doctor John Facilier paced the floor of his study back and forth, smoking thoughtfully on a oak pipe. Usually when he smoked on his pipe indoors, that meant he was serious about something. Facilier's foster father was usually a very laid back man, and sometimes didn't mind Francis' little gambling games; in fact, he'd usually just give him a warning and that was it. But sometimes Francis would go on a binge of these little games of his, and John would have no choice but to lock him up in the house until he felt it was the appropriate time to let him have his freedom. But lately, he stopped being so lenient, and his relationship with Francis had become stressed. If he were to die soon, he didn't want he and Francis to part ways on bad terms. He wanted his son to have a bright future, even if they weren't related by blood.

After five minutes of pacing back and forth, John finally took his pipe out of his mouth and looked at a painting of his own father, then finally said to his son:

"Francis," He sighed. "Where did I go wrong with you? We tried to raise you right, sent you to the best local school, and we're even going to pay for your college tuition. I've let you have your freedom; I've always believed it was important for young people to express themselves, but what you're doing is...well, it's unhealthy."

"And smoking isn't?" Francis asked sarcastically.

John chuckled a little bit, and snuffed out his pipe before setting it down on a nearby table.

"I suppose you're right. But don't try to change the subject," He said, turning to face Francis, his face suddenly serious. "We're not here to talk about my problems, we're here to talk about yours."

"Ah, but with all due respect father," Francis said, rising from his chair and pointing a finger at John. "We've had this conversation twenty three times, and it doesn't seem to be doing any good. So, what do you say you just give me a warning and we call it even, eh?"

"You're missing the point, Francis!" John snapped, pushing Francis' hand down to his side. "You don't seem to get that what you're doing is wrong! You're heading down a slippery slope here, and you don't seem to be showing any signs of stopping!"

Francis seemed to ignore every word John just said, and instead walked over to a display case that held a black cane with a purple diamond for a handle. He smirked and turned around to face John.

"So, when you die, can I have this cane? It's truly magnificent."

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I can't believe you..." He said, collapsing into the plush chair. "My own son wants me dead..." His eyes were brimming with tears.

"Father," Francis said with a sigh, kneeling next to the middle aged man and placing a hand on his shoulder. "I was only kidding. Of course I don't want you to die, but listen: I'm still young, and I want to enjoy life until I have to go to college!"

"But you're eighteen, Francis!" He said in frustration. "You should be better than this by now. You've had more than enough time to enjoy yourself, don't you think? And don't you think you should be looking for a girl to marry? Or at least date a few girls? You don't seem to show any interest in girls for some reason."

"I dated in secondary school," Francis replied.

"And you cheated every one of them out of their money and manipulated their emotions," He snapped, shaking his head in disappointment. "At least you're not doing that anymore...well, when you date them, that is. Then again, they probably don't want anything to do with you."

"Oh, you'd be surprised, father," Francis said slyly.

John chuckled a little bit, and nodded his head. "I suppose I would be. But anyways...now the reason why I asked you to come here," He grunted as he got out of the chair and walked over to the painting of his father. Without turning around to face his adopted son, he said to him:

"We're sending you away to medical school this Sunday."

"What!?" Francis demanded.

"You heard me, son. We're sending you off to medical school this weekend, no questions asked."

"B-b-but I'm not ready to go to college yet!" He pleaded. "I-"

"Just want to stay here and swim in money?" John interrupted, this time looking at him over his shoulder. "That's another thing. Until further notice, you are cut off from our funds, and no longer part of my will."

"WHAT!?" Francis screamed. "YOU CAN'T DO THAT, YOU DOUBLE CROSSING SON OF A-"

"NOT ANOTHER WORD, FRANCIS!" John shouted. "I can cut you off as long as you live under this roof, and as long as I'm paying for your college tuition. If you can prove yourself mature and responsible during your years at medical school, you'll be put back in my will-- if I'm still alive. And until you leave for college, you are not to leave this house under any circumstances. Do I make myself clear!?"

Francis just stood there, his chest quickly rising and falling, his dark skin turned scarlet with rage and hatred. His brown eyes seemed almost to turn red, as if there was a furnace burning deep inside of him. Without a word, he stormed past his father and left the study, slamming the door behind him, leaving John standing there all alone.

Left alone in the confines of his study, John closed his eyes and suppressed the urge to sob as tears trickled down his face.

"I love you, Francis..." He whispered to his absent son. "And I'm sorry..."

* * *

(Note: The following is comic relief to lighten the mood from the last scene. Please continue reading.)

Francis burst into his room, swearing like a drunken sailor.

"That *beep*-ing son of a *beep*! How dare he *beep*-ing cut me off! That stupid little-"

The film reel suddenly bursts into flames. The film Disney provided couldn't handle that much swearing in one sitting, and could not survive as a result. Just then, a man in a suit steps in front of the screen and holds up his hand for the audience to fall silent.

"I'm sorry you folks had to hear that. We are getting another film reel and skipping over that part. To compensate for this little mishap, everyone will get their money back for their tickets and snacks. The film will be back up shortly and you can enjoy yourselves once again."

The film resumes, and skips to the next scene.

(OOC: Sorry, had to add that part to make the story a little less depressing for the hardcore Disney fans lol. Now I'm going back to the serious stuff.)

* * *

Francis' room was a wreck. His bed sheets were strewn all over the room, his pillow torn to shreds in a fit of rage. His dresser was knocked over, and his clothes lay strewn across the floor of his bed room. The mirror in his room was shattered, and his bed side table was turned over. Anything that was fragile in his room was completely destroyed and beyond repair. It was hard to believe that a single, skinny eighteen year old boy did this.

Facilier sat in a corner, hugging his legs to his chest. His eyes were closed, and his chest was rising slowly up and down as he took in deep breaths.

_What did I just do? _He thought to himself. _I tore my room to shreds, and for what? Because my father thought me immature? Perhaps he was right...maybe I am immature. Maybe I'm not ready to inherit his fortune, maybe I--_

_ No! _He scolded himself, jumping to his feet. _My so-called "father" has no right to do this to me! I am eighteen, a legal adult, and he has no power over me! He has no right to keep me locked up in my room! _Facilier had no intentions of staying locked up in his room any longer.

He navigated his way to his bed, and picked up his hat, overcoat, and vest, then put them on. He then carefully navigated his way to the glass double doors that led to his bedroom balcony. Upon trying to open them, he found that they were locked, much to his frustration. His "parents" must have locked it beforehand. He probably had a key in his ransacked room, but it would take too long to look for it. So, he then proceeded to find something to break the glass with, or at least pry the double doors open. The reason he did this was because he knew from past experiences that in circumstances such as this, his parents locked his bedroom door; he was not about to play the fool and try to open that door again. He couldn't find anything to pry the doors open with, but he did find the broken leg of a chair.

"Rather crude," He mused to himself as he cautiously approached the double doors, preparing to shatter the glass. "But desperate times call for desperate measures, no?"

With a quick swing, he shattered the glass doors, clearing a way for his escape. Satisfied, he dropped the leg of the chair and then grabbed a blanket that had been tossed on the floor. He then tied his bed sheets to one end of that, and another blanket to that. He carefully navigated his way on to the balcony, tied one end of his makeshift rope to the railing of the balcony, and then threw the other end over the railing. The jump wasn't too bad, but he wasn't about to risk breaking any bones that night. He carefully and quietly shimmied his way down the makeshift rope; once he was a foot above the ground, he let go of the rope and hit the ground running (not literally, of course).

He sprinted towards the gate of their mansion, and climbed it as quickly as he could. Once he was at the top, he leapt down and broke into a jog. He just had to get far enough away from his "home," and then he could slow down. Their mansion was secluded-- it was probably the most secluded house in all of New Orleans. It sat on a hill north of the main city itself, just a mile away. It was easy to reach, but the Facilier family rarely invited guests. The only time anyone was invited to the mansion was for Mardi Gras, Christmas, and New Years. The Facilier family was very reclusive, even though everybody knew Doctor John Facilier either by name or face. Nevertheless, the family attempted to keep a low profile-- something Francis was not at all interested in.

Even though he was in the city by now and completely alone, he was still running. It felt as if his legs were carrying him somewhere. He didn't even know where he was going, actually. However, it seemed as if his thoughts alone were carrying him somewhere.

_What am I going to do now? I really didn't think this through...but I can't go back home now. It's too late. I've already started running, so why would I stop? Why should I be caught? I'm eighteen, I can make my own decisions. Those snobby, ignorant, useless parents of mine have no right to tell me what to do! Henceforth, I hereby..._

His legs kept carrying him...

_Reject..._

They carried him somewhere unfamiliar. When he realized that he had suddenly stopped running, his train of thought was broken. He was in a dark alley way; not even the silver light of the moon seemed to pierce the veil of darkness that had settled in this path. He didn't know where he was, much less why he stopped running. However, he felt compelled to continue down the dark alley. It was almost as if something was...calling to him?

_No, that's ridiculous._ Facilier berated himself for thinking such foolish things. However, his natural curiosity got the best of him, and he continued down the dark alley way. Within seconds he found himself faced by a boarded up door. He frowned, his natural curiosity once more getting the best of him. He walked forward cautiously, but without hesitation; and without a second thought, with all his might, he pulled the boards off the purple and green door. He looked for a door knob, but found none. He pushed on the door, but it took very little effort at all to open it. In fact, he put so much weight on it that he actually fell forward, almost landing on his face, but his hands broke his fall. He grunted and slowly got himself to his feet, and looked around the room.

When he was done taking in the contents of the room, he knew almost immediately what had called him here. He couldn't help but smile sinisterly as realization and inspiration dawned on him.

(OOC: The third and final chapter should be up next week. And sorry for that little bit of nonsense in the middle of the story. I just felt like doing something weird and nonsensical to lighten the mood for a moment lol.

Also, I'd like to thank the very few people who have reviewed this work. Even though this story isn't getting much attention, I appreciate every single review I've been receiving. I may not be getting double-digit reviews, but y'know what? Who cares. I'd say that the under-reviewed works are some of the best; I don't wanna get reviews just for writing a story about Naveen and Tiana; I wanna get reviews because I deserve them, no matter how many there are. So y'know what? The Naveen and Tiana stories can keep getting dozens of reviews every day for all I care. Facilier's origins are obviously underrated, and that's why I love writing this story. SCREW YOU WORLD!! XP Anyways, enjoy my friends!)


	3. Chapter 3

(Warning: If you don't like the idea of anyone dying in Disney stories EXCEPT for the villains, then go find a nice little Tiana and Naveen story to read.)

* * *

Francis had been missing for two days, and John was worried sick. And not only that, but his wife had gone missing too. Besides himself and the servants, the house was now totally empty. John wasn't really sure what to do at this point. Tomorrow was the day Francis was supposed to leave for college, and now John didn't know where he was. Perhaps it was a mistake to cut him off in the first place. That might have something to do with it. However, he would have better luck figuring it out in his office; he always seemed to be able to think clearly in there.

As he walked into the office, his eyes instantly widened when he saw the glass case that had once held his father's cane was shattered, and the cane missing.

"What the-"

"Ah, hello father," A smooth deep voice said. "How nice to see you again."

He looked to the far side of the room where the fireplace was, and saw a great fire roaring within it. Staring into the fire, sitting in a tall plush chair, was none other than his son.

_No,_ He thought. _That can't be my son. Something's different about him..._

Something _was _different about him. His very presence just screamed evil. He wanted to walk out of the room, but when he turned to leave, the door slammed closed on it's own!

"Nothing to worry about, father," Francis said, smoothly hopping out of the chair and striding over to John, holding his father's cane. "Just a little parlor trick I learned, nothing to be afraid of."

John turned around, a look of both surprise and anger on his face.

"What is the meaning of this, Francis, I demand to-"

Before he could finish, something grabbed hold of him from behind, and threw him into a chair. He looked up, and saw Francis' shadow _walking _back towards Francis. The boy smiled and actually gave the shadow a _high five!_ This was absolutely unbelievable! As he was going to get up to try and stop whatever was going on, the arms of the chair turned into _snakes_! The arms of the chair turned into snakes and coiled around his arms, holding him in place. The same thing happened with the two front legs of the chair; they too transformed into snakes and wrapped around his ankles.

"Struggling will only make it tighter, John," Francis remarked happily. "Oh, by the way, say hello to mother!"

He laughed and pulled out a shrunken head from his over coat, and dangled it in front of his father's face.

"What!?" John screamed. "What did you do to her!?"

"Weelll," Francis said, as he rolled his eyes and smiled. "To be blunt, I cut off her head and shrunk it. Isn't it obvious?"

John didn't reply this time.

"Ah, speechless I see," Francis chuckled as he put the shrunken head back in his coat. "Good. I absolutely adore having a captive audience, after all."

With a snap of his fingers, his shadow rushed over to the tall plush chair, and pulled it over behind Francis. The boy smiled and sat down, crossing his legs as if he were having a polite conversation with John.

"Now, where to begin, where to begin?" Francis mused, tapping his chin as if in deep thought. "Well, might as well notify you of a few changes, I suppose.

"First off," He said, pointing the end of the cane at John. "You may call me Dr. Facilier. I got bored with the name Francis, so I decided to shake it up a bit. You like?"

"I don't know what's going on here," John sneered. "But if you don't release me at once, you'll be-"

"What? Removed from your will? That's been done already, father; jeeze, think up some new material, why doncha?" He withdrew the cane thoughtfully, then continued. "Anyways, this isn't about _your _money at all. No, no, no, this is more like...oh, insurance."

"Insurance?" John asked, dumbfounded. "Insurance for what?"

"Oh, just to make sure that you stay out of my way so I can pay off my debt."

"Debt? What debt?"

"Oh! I didn't tell y'all, did I? Oh, how very rude of me. I'm so sorry, John," Facilier mocked. "Well, I'm gon' share a little secret with you," He leaned in, and held his hand to the side of his face as if he were whispering something. "I'm a witch doctor now. I know, I know, shocking, huh?"

"A witch doctor? But wh-"

"Why?" Facilier interrupted. "Why, for the two things I love most, of course: Money and power. Sure, I already have power thanks to what I've learned. But I have dreams, father. Big dreams; you gotta dream big if y'all wanna succeed, after all. Am I right?

"So, anyways, now on to my debt. You see, I have friends on the other side now. In exchange for the knowledge I now possess, I must give them souls."

"Souls?"

"Yep, you heard me right! Souls! And not just any old souls. All the souls in New Orleans!" The fire roared ferociously when Facilier completed his sentence. "Oooh, looks like my friends are getting excited."

"There's just one problem with that," John said defiantly.

"Oh? Facilier mused, sitting back in his chair. "And what might that be?"

"How do you plan to collect these souls?"

The Doctor opened his mouth to respond, but then he stopped and frowned. "Hm...I'm surprised I hadn't thought of that."

"I'm not," John replied smugly.

Facilier glared at him, and John noticed something he hadn't noticed before: Facilier's eyes had changed from brown to purple! It must have been a side affect from the dark magic that he was now using.

"Oh, you've noticed my eyes, have you?" He mused, jumping out of his seat and spinning around on his cane so he was leaning against the chair. "Mother had that very same look on her face when she noticed them. Pretty, aren't they?"

"They're about as pretty as a rat's backside!"

"Well, how rude of you!" Facilier feigned offense. "You know, with a sharp tongue like that, I'm beginning to wonder just where I got my good manners from. Certainly not from you or mother. Oh well, I guess it's just one of those mysteries that will never be solved!"

He laughed and walked over to the fire, his back turned to his father. John could see no way out of this. He was trapped in this chair and he was at Facilier's mercy. The best he could do was buy some time and try to convince Francis to let him go.

"So, what are you planning to do to me?" John asked.

"You know, I'm not really sure," Facilier said, still looking at the fire. "I was planning on giving you to my friends, but I don't think that you'd be a very satisfying offering.

"Hmmm...what to do, what to do?" He said as he stroked his chin. "Well, I suppose I could just, oh, I dunno, burn this house to the ground?"

"What!?" John exclaimed. "Have you gone mad, boy? If you burn this house down and kill me, all chances of you receiving my fortune will be lost!"

"Father father father," Facilier mused. "If you've learned one thing about me, it's that I'm not a bettin' man-- I stay away from games of chance. I always make sure that I'll be the one who wins in the end."

With that, he pulled a small idol out of his pocket and walked back to John. The idol seemed to resemble a mask of some sort, and for a moment John thought it was alive, because its mouth opened and bit his finger, drawing blood from the wound; he couldn't help but let out a small yelp of pain. The idol filled with his blood, and Facilier put it back inside his pocket with a devious smile.

"Well, looks like I got what I need from you. So, I guess I'll be heading off now."

John just stared in amazement as Facilier walked towards the door, and his shadow opened it for him. Before he walked out, however, he spun around to face John and took off his hat like a gentleman, and gave him a bow.

"A tip of the hat from Doctor Facilier. Now, have a nice day."

He smirked and swung his cane, and a small bit of the fire from the fireplace burst out and set part of the carpet on fire.

"I'd say you have about a minute before the fire gets to you," Facilier shouted as he walked out of the room. "I'd suggest you say your prayers in the meantime."

John was never a religious man, but if there was a time for prayer, it was now.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Your Kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven,"

The fire spread to a nearby cabinet.

"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses,"

Tears began to trickle down John's cheek as he thought of his son.

"As we forgive those who trespass against us,"

The fire was inching closer to John every second.

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen."

Finally, it was over.

* * *

Facilier walked into his soon-to-be Voodoo Emporium with a triumphant smile.

_I have it! I have his blood! All that needs to be done is the Knowledge Transference Ritual, and I shall have the knowledge that I seek!_

He could feel his shadow tugging on his shoulder, trying to tell him something. But he completely disregarded it. He was much too excited to hear anything.

He quickly rushed to the back room, and took out his Voodoo spell book. He flipped through the pages until he found the instructions for the Knowledge Transference Ritual; he grabbed two pieces of chalk, one white and the other purple, and began to draw the symbols for the ritual. He went and grabbed a small pedestal for his idol, and placed it in the center of the circle he had drawn. He took his place behind the idol, and got down on his knees, facing the three large voodoo masks that were mounted on the wall.

"O great, ancient spirits! My friends on the other side! I come with great success; I have drawn the blood of my father, and within this blood is the knowledge to gain access to his wealth. Please, I beg you, take his blood and give me the knowledge I seek, and you shall have your souls within a month's passing!"

He waited for a moment in complete silence, then he heard a deep, Hellish voice inside his head.

_We cannot grant you this knowledge, Doctor Facilier._

"What?" He asked, shocked by the response he had received. "But, I drew his blood, and drew the symbols! Why can't you give me this knowledge?"

_For two reassssonssss. _A high pitched serpent like voice said. _The firssst should all ready be known to you: It isss impossssible to cassst Voodoo magic on yoursssself._

The next to speak had a deep guttural voice.

_The second reason is more...complicated, which you should have been informed of earlier. If the owner of the blood is dead, then the spell cannot work. In order for blood magic to function properly, the owner of the blood must be alive. If you were to attempt this ritual right now, the recipient would be driven mad._

"Well...that would have been useful to know beforehand. Why isn't _that _in the spell book too?"

_Humans are so inefficient,_ The first voice said smugly.

"Well, I guess that answers my question..." He mumbled to himself angrily. "So be it," He said, returning his attention to the voodoo masks in front of him. "Will you at least accept this blood that I have drawn, as a token of my good faith?"

_We are alwaysssss happy to accept blood offeringssss...._

The voodoo idol was lifted into the air, and it's mouth opened. The blood it contained was sucked into the large voodoo mask in the middle, along with the idol itself. The three voodoo mask's eyes glowed red for a moment, then died down.

_Leave us now._ The first voice commanded. _Go out into the city and find more souls for us to harvest. Whoever you perform Voodoo magic on will be marked for harvesting. Now go._

"Do I have a time limit, my friends?" Facilier asked, still on his knees.

_There is no time limit._ The last voice said. _So long as we receive the souls before your appointed time of death, we shall not claim you as one of our own. Now go! Delay no further, Doctor Facilier!_

Facilier bowed his head in respect, and slowly backed out of the room. Once he was in the main room, he spun himself around and grabbed a deck of tarot cards from the nearby table. He looked at them with a slight frown, then he smirked a little bit.

_Charismatic, well dressed, and good looking. How could I possibly fail?_

* * *

So now, my friends, you know the beginnings of Doctor Facilier, the Shadow Man. What happened to him after this, you might ask? It is not my place to tell. Another time, perhaps. But, heed the story of the Shadow Man. Once you start down a slippery slope, no matter what it may involve, it will lead to something worse unless you are strong enough to grab hold of something.

Thank you for listening, and please, have a nice day, and a long life.

* * *

(OOC: Okay, so I posted it earlier than I had planned, but since the story isn't getting much attention, I figured "What's the point of torturing myself?" BUT!!! I felt I wrote a very satisfying ending, if I do say so myself. Once again, I would like to thank the few people who reviewed my story, and I'm glad you enjoyed it. This is the first and last Disney story I will ever write (unless they come up with another b.a. villain). However, I do hope that you will read and review some of my other stories, especially if you like action and horror. Or, if you know anyone who likes horror, that you would recommend my horror stories to them (I need the publicity, in case you haven't noticed lol). And if you have any pointers on writing that you'd like to give me, please feel free to message me. Art is my main concern, and writing is a side interest, so my writing could use some work. Wow...I really wasn't planning to write this much as a side note lol. Anyways...sorry for taking up your time. Have a nice day, and feel free to reread! XP)


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